


Fit to rule

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, F/M, Political Marriage, Roan/Echo are the ones getting married, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: Clarke becomes the ambassador to Azgeda for Skaikru, and a political advisor to the King in her own right. But upon arriving in the Azgeda capital, Roan and her discover that his people do not trust him. They insist he abandoned them, and that he should not be given any say in what happens to them. There is one option that presents itself to Clarke, however; one person whom the Azgeda council does trust. But suggesting a marriage between Roan and Echo means setting aside her own feelings for Roan, and that proves to be slightly more difficult than anticipated.





	Fit to rule

“The King is unfit to rule.” An old man - probably only in his 40s, but the Azgeda life is hard - who resembles the personification of gristle states for approximately the eightieth time and Clarke feels the headache that had started hours ago pulse. She rubs at her forehead in vain and slumps further into her chair.

She had been the only name put forward for political ambassador of Skaikru to Azgeda, and Clarke herself had sort of wanted the position. Arkadia grated on her in a way she would never have predicted. She loved it, loved her people, but moreso with distance between them. And besides, this was the best use of her talents and she was the best person for the position. So Clarke had accepted the task and followed Roan to the Azgeda capital and proudly taken a seat on his council, ready to face important decisions and bare her political teeth.

That is, until she found out that not only did people not trust her, they didn’t trust Roan. Everyone looked at them with suspicion, and everything Roan said seemed to be questioned by his group of advisors. More often than not, they would glance behind him, to catch a quick nod from Echo, before relenting and accepting his words. Clarke could see in the first days how much it angered him, and as days turned into weeks, she saw some of how much it hurt him.

He was supposed to be a King, if not beloved by his people, at least obeyed. And yet when he returned, triumphantly having averted disaster with his quick alliance with Skaikru, no one would listen to him. And Clarke vouching for him did no good; if people questioned Roan, they straight up ignored Clarke. She may aswell have been one of the children that ran around cleaning up after the warriors, for all the heed she was paid.

Echo seemed to be their only ally in the capital, and she insisted Roan be patient, win over his people with his strength and resolve. They would see in time that he was the King they needed, she assured. But as the days had passed, people still looked to her for guidance, or hummed and hawed over every word Roan said for ages before considering them as true.

Which led them to today, when Roan had finally called his council to order and confronted them, contrary to Echo’s advice. The Kingsguard in question had stood stonily behind him as Roan had accused his advisors of everything just short of treason and made several open-ended threats. Clarke had thought he might be onto something, intimidating the people into following him, but then gristle-man had opened his mouth and said for the first time that Roan was unfit, and the meeting had gone to hell.

“You keep saying that,” Roan growls at the old man, “Yet you offer no solutions.”

“It is not my place to offer solutions, merely to report on the true state of things. And you aren’t fit to rule us. That’s the truth.” The man raises his chin, and Clarke wishes she could rest her head on her arms and fall asleep. The conversation keeps going in circles, and it’s not like anyone would listen to her anyway.

“He is your King.” Echo points out, which Clarke is relatively confident she’s already said before.

“We respect that, of course, and he is free to call himself King, but Echo…” A different man chimes in, trailing off with his lips pulled into a thin line. “Where was he?”

Roan’s frustrated fidgeting stills, and Clarke feels with a sickening certainty the cold rage pouring off of him. He looks up at the man, who is still looking to Echo and ignoring Roan’s presence except peripherally, his very glare a weapon.

“Where was I when? When I was saving you all from second praimfiya? When I was securing us an alliance with the greatest wielders of tech? Is that what you were wondering?” Roan’s words are quiet and sharp, and the man turns to him, nodding slightly.

“Yes, when we were at war in Polis, taking the holy city that secured Azgeda rule. When our men and women were laying down their lives, bleeding for the sake of your throne. When Echo was leading the front lines, encouraging the troops, and doing what you ought to have been doing. Alliances are the work of ambassadors, and second praimfiya… We only have your word that your solution saved us, we might have been fine anyway.”

_You also have my word, not that any of you would listen_ , Clarke thinks bitterly.

“Echo is not your King.” Roan’s voice is carefully controlled.

“And our King is unfit to rule!” Gristle-man interjects, a stab of pain lancing behind Clarke’s eyes as they come right back to that again. This needs to end, one way or another, except no one is trying to actually prove or accomplish anything.

The argument continues on, and Clarke tunes them out for the most part, trying to come up with some way out of this certain sort of hell. The people don’t trust Roan, Roan demands they obey him, they refuse. Demanding respect won’t make it so, but it seems his past actions have doomed those under his rule to question all of his in the future. They aren’t a scientific people, there’s no way to prove to them how much worse everything would have been had Roan not helped Clarke and Skaikru.

So the solution would not be a matter of convincing one side that the other is in the right. Both sides, to their own viewpoints, are wholly correct, and they can’t be swayed, at least not quickly. Clarke chews on her lip as Echo backs Roan up in something again, and an option presents itself to her. It sits in her stomach like a ball of lead, weighing her down with its certainty, and she tries to forget it, but her mind won’t pursue anything else now.

The people trust Echo. They turn to her over the King, only trust Roan’s words if Echo backs him up or they know she was advising him on the matter. And there’s one way to be sure that their minds are set to the same task, a union that Clarke had discovered was still tradition among Azgeda, much to her surprise. But it’s irrevocable, and to pursue it would mean Clarke would have to set aside her own interests. 

Clarke swallows as gristle-man speaks up _again,_ and with a sharp breath she attempts to throw in a few words of her own.

“I think,” Clarke begins, and everyone continues talking. Except for Roan, who turns to her with his eyes narrowed. She doesn’t meet his gaze, wouldn’t be able to make her suggestion if she looked at him. “There might be a solution here.”

No one acknowledges Clarke speaking, until Roan raises a hand, and the conversation peeters out. All eyes on him, except for Clarke’s which remain fixed past him on the wall, Roan nods to Clarke. She takes in a shaky breath in the silence and starts again.

“As I was saying, there may be a solution here.”

“Yes, the King not trying to rule us-” Someone begins, and Clarke cuts them off.

“No. Roan is fit to rule, but he has lost your trust.” A murmuring picks up in the crowd, and Clarke raises her voice as she continues, “There is someone, whoever who has earned your trust. Echo fought alongside many of you, she has proven herself to all of you.”

Clarke pauses until one of the women on the council grows impatient and demands, “What are you suggesting? Speak up, girl.”

“I propose a union. Let King Roan take Echo to be his Queen, let them rule jointly. You could trust him as you do her, knowing they’re on the same page.” The words stick in Clarke’s throat like molasses, but she chokes them out, voice clear and strong and, for once, heeded. She can’t bear to look at Roan, instead looking at Echo. Echo cocks her head to the side, regarding Clarke curiously, but she doesn’t raise any issues.

Neither does Roan, and Clarke feels her heart sink. She had known her feelings were likely going to be one sided, her being practically a child to all of Roan’s experience on Earth, but she had still hoped. As her heart twists, Clarke puts on a brave face. Regardless of her emotions, this was a good suggestion, she knows that much.

The room is silent as each advisor considers Clarke’s words, and she tastes the bitter tang of irony over the fact that the one idea of hers they listen to is the one she wishes least to see put into action. She scans the room in order to avoid Roan’s pointed gaze, which she can feel burning her skin like the sun in the height of summer, beautiful yet all too much at once. She sees a few frowns from advisors, but for the most part they seem to be nodding, and Clarke’s heart firmly takes up residence in her lower intestine. 

_It’s for the best. For our people._

Clarke repeats it like a mantra in her mind, clinging to it to prevent the agony hovering at the edges of her soul, like a patient vulture. She knows she’ll have to face her feelings eventually, but not here, not now. If Clarke is being honest, she’s actually surprised at her own reaction. She had come to terms with liking Roan a while ago, and while she had known it would hurt when she came up with the idea, seeing everyone agreeing with it is far worse than her imagination had been able to provide.

The silence is broken by gristle-man, and his words cement Clarke’s hatred of him. “A union would be… acceptable.”

The first time he’s agreed with anyone as far as Clarke is aware, and he’s agreeing with her. What an asshole.

“I agree.” The woman who had prompted Clarke to speak adds, and Clarke purposefully takes in a deep breath, making herself seem solid as she collapses inside. The rest of the councillors rush to add their affirmations, even the most reticent eventually cave and accept the proposal. In short time, far too short for Clarke’s liking, there are only two people in the room who haven’t given their opinion on the matter; the two people who matter the most.

Part of Clarke hopes for Roan or Echo to refuse, views it as two more chances for this whole thing to end before it can truly begin, but she crushes that part soundly. This is necessary, it doesn’t even come close to the worst thing she has ever convinced a people to do. But this is not war, it’s politics. The necessity is far different, more personal than Clarke had been prepared for.

The entire room turns their attention to Echo when the last reservations have been quelled, and she stands a little straighter. Clarke doesn’t trust Echo in the slightest, but she has always admired the woman’s ability to look like a statue and a deadly weapon all at once. Right now she hates it, because she can’t tell Echo’s feelings at all, and she waits for Echo’s words with bated breath. 

“My life has always been given to the people of Azgeda. If my King is willing, I would be honoured to take a place at his side, to serve and lead the people in the office of Queen.” Echo accepts the offer gratefully, and Clarke bites the inside of her cheek to conceal her emotions. 

Of course Echo would accept, how could Clarke have ever thought she wouldn’t? Echo’s whole purpose was power, and status within Azgeda; Clarke had just handed her everything she wanted on a silver platter. If Clarke is being objective, which she very much does not want to be in that moment, she has to admit that Echo really is the best person for the position of Queen, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

So, just one more person who could kill the whole plan. Echo turns to Roan, a question in her gaze, and Clarke finally looks fully at him. His eyes are locked on her, not looking at Echo despite the situation. Clarke’s mouth goes dry, and she prays he won’t ask her anything. She couldn’t speak right now if she wanted to, with her fool’s gold daydream of something between Roan and herself closer to slipping away with every second that passes, every word that’s spoken.

“It seems,” Roan speaks slowly, never looking away from Clarke, “everyone is in favour. I will always do what is best for my people.”

Clarke feels the words like a physical blow and tries not to wince. She can’t help but feel them as an attack on her, as if Roan knows about her feelings and wants her to know that they are hers alone. 

“If there are no objections?” Roan floats the open ended question into the room, raising an eyebrow at Clarke, and she tremors her head in the smallest of shakes as everyone else waves away the concept of protesting.

_Of course I have objections, I care about you, I don’t want this at all. You should be with me, not her._ Clarke takes care to ensure that none of her thoughts show. It’s a smart move, a politically sound plan, and she hates it.

“Then wedding planning is in order, I suppose.” Roan says the last words with his eyes still locked on Clarke before turning away from her, and she is glad for it. She doesn’t know how much longer she could have stood up under his attention before breaking. Roan turns to Echo, standing behind his right elbow as always, and addresses her directly for the first time since the concept of them wedding was floated. “Will you do me the honour of being my Queen, leading my people beside me and sharing my life?”

The formal question holds heavy in the air for a moment before Echo nods somberly, “I will.”

_How romantic_ , a bitter part of Clarke’s mind sneers, and she shoves the thought away. It’s not a marriage of love or romance, but one of power, and she finds small solace in that.

“We have much to address, my King-” Gristle-man begins, and Roan cuts him off with a sharp look.

“And we’ll do it tomorrow. We’re done for the day.” Roan grumbles, and Clarke doesn’t blame him for not wanting to sit through more hours of talk.

“But-”

“We are done.” Roan states with finality as he pushes his chair back and stands, and gristle-man falls silent with a frown. Clarke catches the smallest quirk at the corner of Roan’s lip at that, and she smothers her own selfish grin at the man being put in his place. “Gather your thoughts, advisors, we begin planning tomorrow.”

With that dismissal which would not have sounded out of place on a battlefield, Roan turns and leaves the room, Echo close beside him, and Clarke feels a pang of jealousy shoot through her. She breathes slowly to calm her emotions and stands as the rest of the councillors do, breaking the session in order to tend to their agendas outside of the King’s council. She knows many of the will be meeting with each other to make their own plans for the wedding, bids for power and position in one form or another. Some others will be pursuing their own pleasures, and will doubtlessly let slip news of today. By morning, the whole city will know, and Clarke feels sick at the thought of it.

She should seek out some of the meetings going on, with some of the more liberal of the advisors, make her own moves and set her own plans into motion. But as everyone dissipates through the halls, Clarke can’t find it in her to do so. She has no more clever plans to share, no words to share with the people who chose the worst time to listen to her. So Clarke allows her feet to follow the path back to her quarters, leaving the world to carry out the plot she had begun on its own.

As the familiar route unfolds before her, Clarke is left with nothing to occupy her mind other than the recent events, and she can feel the true pain of heartbreak creeping up on her with every step. She hadn’t thought her feelings for Roan were so strong, but the reality of the situation sets in, and Clarke can’t help but think of everything she’ll never have. 

Sure, they will still be allies and potentially even friends, but their relationship will always be political first and foremost. She won’t get Roan checking up on her to make sure she’s okay, or him backing up her before anyone else, or those little looks and smiles they had shared when he was helping Skaikru, or away from the eyes of his people. She’ll never get to know if they meant anything, because now all of that will be given to Echo. Every kindness, every push to be better, every award comfort will be hers because Clarke suggested it. And Clarke wants to hate Echo for it, but she can’t, not even a little. 

Clarke thinks about every chance she could have taken; there had been so many times she and Roan were alone and so close to each other that it would hardly have taken any movement to touch him. And every time, she stood still, unwilling to be the first to break. But what if she had? What if she had grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him, giving in to everything she wanted. Would the idea of wedding Roan to Echo have even occurred to her? Would the people have been willing to accept it, knowing that Roan and she were already together? Would it have even worked out, or would he have rejected her?

Clarke enters her room and closes the door soundly behind her, sighing and leaning against it for a moment, mumbling to herself, “And what if pigs flew and filled the skies with shit.”

Clarke attempts to push all the ‘what if’s from her mind and crosses the room to her simple desk, well stocked with paper and charcoal sticks. She carefully lays one sheet out in front of herself and picks up a stick, setting it to the page with the full intent of writing out the events of today, as she does each day. Standard summaries of events, sent back to Arkadia every few days, most of which have contained practically no information.

But this… This was something far more important than the minor agreements the council had come to, regarding food distribution and troops. A political alliance, something very delicately balanced in a web of power that her people at Arkadia are hardly even aware of. How could she possibly portray the importance of it with words? She could say ‘King Roan is marrying Echo, who will take her place beside him as Queen of Azgeda’, but she doubts that they would understand exactly what that means. Beyond Clarke’s own selfish interests in the situation, Echo having the power of Queen has many more far reaching implications, ones that could very well touch Arkadia if people there are unwilling to bury their grudges with her. Namely Bellamy.

Clarke lays down the stick of charcoal, leaving only a small dot on the otherwise pristine page. No, she decides, a simple letter will not do in this case. She has to go back to Arkadia, to tell the Council there about the events firsthand and to ensure they understand their new relationship with Echo. And if she gets some space between her and Roan, and maybe has a chance to have a pity party with a glass of moonshine to get over him, that’s all for the better. It’s the best course of action, both for navigating the current political situation, and for working through her own emotions.

Clarke picks up the charcoal once more and sets to writing out requisitions; gear, a horse, a formal leave of absence notice for Roan, a schedule so that if she’s beset on the road people will at least know her general area. It soothes her, the skimming of pencil over paper, making methodical lists and setting plans. For a little while, she’s able to forget the wedding, focusing solely on preparation for her travel. If everything goes well, she’ll set out in the morning, stick to a brisk pace, and forget all about her own conflicts.

Clarke clings to that hope and moves straight from planning into packing, pulling leather saddlebags from a chest and carefully selecting the clothes she’ll need. She’s mildly surprised to see how much of her clothing is cut in the Azgeda fashion already; fur and black leather, occasional decoration wrought in bone or branded into it. She picks the most neutral of her pieces, including those she brought with her from Arkadia, and sets them aside. She counts them twice, to occupy her mind and ensure she has enough for her travels, and then folds them and packs them away carefully.

When all's said and done, the sun is barely beginning to set. Clarke debates setting candles against the gathering gloom for a moment, but her bed looks inviting, and the sun sets late in the summer anyway. So Clarke strips off her clothes, pulls on a nightshirt, and crawls straight into bed, satisfied with her preparations. A good night’s sleep will serve her well, and then she can be off. She closes her eyes and settles into the soft furs, satisfied for the briefest of moments.

Although Clarke wants nothing more than for the day to be over, sleep evades her like the stubborn bitch that it is. She tosses and turns in her opulent bed for what feels like hours, until she’s shocked that the sun hasn’t risen yet, leaving her entirely without rest. She tries to lay still and shut her eyes and think of nothing, but every time she does so, her mind returns to the council meeting. 

To her suggestion.

To Roan agreeing to it.

To the feeling of her heart, once thought to be broken to the point where it could not be heart again, shattering once more.

With a bitter sigh, Clarke flings off her fur blankets and gets out of her bed, letting the bitter cold of the night air temporarily distract her from her thoughts. She fumbles her way into a long fur overcoat and slips on some shoes, then departs from her room for the halls. If she’s doomed to think about that moment anyway, she might as well do so while walking. That might burn the edge off of her sour mood, as opposed to fermenting in it in her bed.

Clarke finds her way outside, into the bitterly cold night air of a terrace, thoughts racing yet going nowhere in their obsessive path. She can’t think of anything new, can’t stop thinking of the fact that Roan is going to be marrying Echo because she told him to. She’ll have to be at the wedding, as a member of the council, and she’ll have to watch him hold Echo’s hand and kiss her and swear his life to hers. She’ll agonize over every note of his voice, trying to figure out if he actually cares for Echo; not that it matters either way, there’s no future for him and Clarke regardless of his feelings for soon to be Queen.

Clarke leans on a stone railing and looks out into the night with a sigh. She had come to terms with being attracted to Roan long ago, but when had her feelings gotten this bad? Somewhere between seeing his abs for the first time and now, things had changed. Perhaps during their ride here? The cold nights camping in the forest, with Roan telling her stories of the Azgeda capital with evident love in his voice. Or before that, when he had taught her how to properly care for a horse and gifted her one, stating that an ambassador needs her own horse.

Or when he had taken her word about second Praimfiya and helped her, or when he had allied with her despite the general feelings of his people towards Skaikru, or, or, or… The more Clarke thinks on it, the more she realizes her feelings had been this intense for a long time. But there had been so much going on, attraction was the last thing on her list of concerns. And after that, well, there had always been some tiny glimmer of a chance, and she’d never had to confront her feelings to really figure out the depth of them. Now, with everything being taken away before she can ever know it, she has nothing else to do _but_ analyze them.

Clarke’s thoughts are interrupted and she turns at the sound of footsteps behind her, soft but purposeful on the stone, seeing none other than the subject of her thoughts. She hopes her conflict doesn’t show as Roan crosses to her, moonlight shadowing everything and making him seem slightly less real. It helps a little, allows Clarke to feel like he’s less _there_ , less present to cause her more pain.

“Clarke,” Roan greets her softly, and she hates how much she likes it when he uses her name.

“King Roan. Couldn’t sleep?” Clarke tries a smile, pushing for a light conversation.

“No need to be so formal.” Roan chuckles before sobering, “And no. There are… many things to think about.”

_I need to be formal, it’s the only way I’m going to get through this_ , Clarke thinks, but doesn’t say. She wants to be close to him, to advise him the way that she had before her suggestion. Long nights alone together, sharing burdens and comfort with each other… Clarke wishes it could be that way once more, but she knows that if she’s going to get over her feelings, it can’t possibly be.

“Ah,” Clarke says, for lack of a better reply. She tries to come up with a way to steer the topic away from the events of today, but nothing comes to mind and before long she realizes it’s been too long. The silence between them grows, foreboding and oppressive.

“The marriage…” Roan breaks the silence with exactly the words Clarke had been hoping to avoid, staring out at the shifting shadows. Clarke can’t help but get the feeling that he’s avoiding looking directly at her, but if this is the topic of conversation, she doesn’t mind it in the slightest. “It was a good idea.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says, her heart clenching in physical pain.

“Is it what you want? For me to marry Echo?”

“I- It’s what’s best. For everyone.”

“So you want me to go through with this?”

_No, of course not. I want you to figure something else out, and I want you to kiss me. I don’t want to stand by and watch as you marry a woman I barely tolerate and definitely don’t trust._

“Of course.” The lie tastes of bile, curling over Clarke’s tongue and burning on its path to the world. She holds herself together by sheer force of will as Roan turns and looks at her, even managing a small smile. He needs to rule his people, and her people need an actual King on their side, not a figurehead. Her feelings don’t matter, not in this. Clarke places a hand on his arm, hoping it comes across as comforting rather than the desperate attempt for connection it feels to her. “You and Echo will be able to do great things together.”

Roan straightens and steps towards Clarke, and her heart beats faster despite the weight of sorrow upon it. He leans in until his face is scant inches from Clarke and she both hopes for and dreads the potential for a kiss. If he kisses her, she tells herself, that would be enough. A memory, to hold as she watches him bind his life to Echo’s. But she knows that’s as much a lie as her being okay with the union, so she holds still rather than claiming it for herself. 

Roan doesn’t kiss her, however. He simply searches her gaze with his own, and Clarke stands firm beneath the scrutiny. After a tense moment, Roan deliberately removes Clarke’s hand from his forearm and steps away, raising his chin and looking down at her.

“I see.”

It was another chance for her to break, for her to make good on her desires, and Clarke wants to sob as it slips through her fingers, but she doesn’t. She watches Roan, searches for clues as to his feelings and finds nothing. Does he care for her? Does he hold disdain for her emotions? Clarke burns to know, yet at the same time hopes she never finds out.

“You have many busy days ahead of you, you should get some rest.” Clarke’s voice holds strong even though it kills her to try and send him away, and Roan nods.

“Likewise, advisor.” Roan turns and leaves, not sparing Clarke another glance, and she stays firmly rooted where she stands as Roan throws back over his shoulder, “I fully expect you to be at all planning sessions. This was your idea, after all.”

_Fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by this message on tumblr; _ok, not a prompt just a rant. but like, clarke acting as a political advisor. and they are like whats the best thing for us to do, nobody respects the king, he's never here, if echo wanted to overthrow him she could and so clarke is like. ok. you and echo should get married. and it's smart and they DO and they whole time clarke's little heart is just BREAKING. and when she and roan fight( cause they are in love and both so angry with each other for the situation) and he's like you just sit around and give advose, i'm marrying someone that I like but don't love, I'm giving this part of my life up blah blah. This isn't as easy for me as it is for you and she just blows the fuck up on him and she's like, I advised that you marry echo because that was what was best for THEM and THEIR people and now I just have to sit here and fucking WATCH as the person that I love marries someone else, so shut the sweet fuck up. and it's angsty and at somepoint they fuck. and cry. Possibly they cry while fucking. -M_
> 
> How could I not take a shot at writing that? It's deliciously angsty, as this whole story will be. Next 2 chapters are going to be smut, and a healthy dose of angst on top. I am in love with this story so far, hopefully I can get it done relatively quickly! (Like, a few months, tops) Anwya, eternal love to [coldsaturn](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com) for editing this while I slept <3
> 
> If you want to chat with me, hit me up [on tumblr!](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) And thanks in advance for commenting/reading/leaving kudos <3


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